


A Dish Best Served

by Trista_zevkia



Series: Platonic [15]
Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Superman (Comics), Superman - All Media Types, Superman/Batman (Comics), World's Finest (Comics)
Genre: Docking, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Pie Thieves, Public Sex, Sex Pollen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-11
Updated: 2014-02-11
Packaged: 2018-01-11 23:08:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1179040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trista_zevkia/pseuds/Trista_zevkia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's pie, and just desserts for pie thieves. </p>
<p>A plot bunny that fell out from the epilogue to Strangers When We Meet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Dish Best Served

**Author's Note:**

  * For [beizanten](https://archiveofourown.org/users/beizanten/gifts).



Done with Brucie for the day, Bruce settled into the cave to get some real work done. With another four hours before it got dark enough to take to the streets, he’d use this time to narrow down which streets he needed to cover. The computer was programmed to do as much as possible without him there, but sometimes the final decisions needed the human touch. He might rely on a ‘gut instinct’ every so often, but not without a head full of facts and what-if scenarios. It was time for an escaped Joker to put in an appearance, but talk had the Penguin gearing up for something. He’d have to pack his utility belt to cover both troublemakers, but decide whose territory he wanted to patrol.

The ringing of Brucie’s cell phone was a distraction he could ignore, but he still glanced at the number. It said it was an unknown number, which was what he’d programmed it to say if any member of the JL called him; Brucie wasn’t supposed to know the world’s heroes. 

“Yes?” A short greeting, hopefully short enough that if anybody had commandeered the phone of a JL member, they wouldn’t recognize the voice on the other end. 

“Tom-Tom!” That wasn’t his name, but Bruce did recognize the voice. 

“You calling to ask directions?” 

A fake but thankfully brief laugh. “Tom, you’re crazy. I haven’t talked to you since college, and you call me out of the blue for that joke.” 

“That’s me; the life of any party.” Bruce rolled his eyes, wanting to go back to his analysis. “What did I call you for?” 

“Oh, that sounds like a great time, but I’m really busy at _The Daily Planet_ , not that you’d know about work.” More fake laughter, before Clark started ranting about the good old days they never had. 

“Fine, I’ll hack into your work calendar.” Bruce spoke over Clark’s nonsense. Switching screens, Bruce pulled up the _Planet’s_ website, bookmarked to the employee login page. Clark had changed his password since the last time Bruce had done this, and as before, Bruce extrapolated what he knew of Clark’s personality and sense of humor, as an addendum to his last password. It was accepted on the first try, and Bruce despaired for a moment. “Photographic memory, and your password is snooping_bat? Good thing I’m not a dangerous vigilante determined to make sure you don’t do more harm than good.” 

Clark laughed at that, a real laugh, before slipping back into the character he was playing. 

Bruce sped read through the events of the last few days, connected it with what he’d read in various papers and realized what was going on. Which, not to boast, was probably the reason Clark called him, and not one of the other members of the JL who would need more information than Clark was willing to give at this time. Bruce really needed to find time to give the JL classes in detective work. 

“I see. The ultra-conservative senate fact-finding group you’ve been imbedded with while they tour the seedy underbelly of the US is, in fact, so conservative, that they are driving innocent little you to consider mooning them at full speed.” 

“You were always quick at those one-liners!” 

“I understand, as I’m considering punching you for this fake enthusiasm you’re torturing my ears with.” 

“You know what you always said, fake it till you make it!” There was a noise, much like a slamming door, and then Clark was on the phone, talking almost super-fast. “You owe me, I owe you, I don’t care how it works out but get me away from these people. This is the first five seconds I’ve been alone in two days and there hasn’t even been a planetary emergency I could allow myself to ditch work for. I can hear somebody coming already. Get me out this; I’m so desperate I don’t even care how you do it.” That desperation came through in his voice for just a second and then he was back to his fake enthusiasm. “Well, it’s always great talking to you. Catch you later, alligator!” 

Bruce hung up the phone and considered Clark’s work calendar. With Joker not showing up yet, and Penguin only getting ready for something, he might have time for a supper break before hitting the streets. A quick cross-reference and Bruce confirmed some of those senators were the same ones who’d refused federal disaster relief funding to Gotham after the earthquake. Bruce reached for the phone to call Alfred. If he wasn’t careful, Bruce knew he’d end up enjoying this. 

sB _Sb_ Bs

This little tour was supposed to be a survey of the infrastructure that needed repair, the issues that most affected working people, and the major concerns of most major cities. In reality, it’d turned out to be an excuse for the Senators to take private jets between major cities, talk solemnly on camera, and then be wined and dined by local campaign contributors. It was all perfectly legal, nothing Clark could expose them for, but the facts they’d been finding could have been the result of an internet survey. People needed bridges they could drive across without Superman standing at the ready to save them. Wow, what an insight. 

Clark let out a soft sigh, realizing that his frustration was making him channel his inner Batman. His earlier phone call to Bruce had made him feel better, even if he didn’t think Bruce would rescue him. He had his city to protect tonight, but tomorrow, Bruce might change the orders at the JL so they would call Clark in at the first sign of trouble. Clark had known this assignment would last a week, so he’d told them to be selective when asking for his help. Now here he was, three days in and ready to scream at the waste and narcissism he was dealing with. The representative from the other papers were so jaded that they were bored, and playing games on their cellphones. 

Inhaling to sigh again, Clark caught an odor. His mouth started watering before he placed the smell. Apple pie, cold, but homemade, and not the processed, industrial waste they’d been feeding the press core while the senators dined in style. Even cold, it smelled so good Clark thought about flying home to see if Ma had one ready. No, he couldn’t do that, which was why he was still here. Leo was here for _The Bugler_ , a gossip magazine that pretended to be a newspaper, and he had it in for Clark. 

When he’d found out Leo was taking bribes to not break stories about LexCorp, Clark had complained about it to Bruce. A sneaky Bruce, who had already started to buy the _Planet_ without telling anybody. When Bruce bought the paper, he fired Leo, and Leo blamed Clark. Leo was looking for something to tattle about Clark, so Clark was determined not to give it to him, unless it was to save the planet. But would sneaking a piece of that delicious smelling pie count in Leo’s eyes? 

The rattle of a trolley caught Clark’s attention, and he looked for it. They were wheeling in a trolley full of plated pie, each slice artfully topped with stars of whipped cream. It looked as good as it smelled, and Clark’s inner Flash came out. A quick look around showed nobody was looking, not even Leo, so Clark sped over, grabbed a piece from the bottom of the cart and returned to his seat. Keeping the pie in his lap and hidden from view, Clark slowly ate it, in small bites to prolong the pleasure. It wasn’t Ma’s pie, but it was good enough to rival Alfred’s. 

Along with the nutmeg and cinnamon, there was a spice Clark couldn’t identify. At first, that extra spice didn’t add anything to the pie, but by the time he was sneaking his fifth bite, Clark realized it was an extra source of smoothness. Ten bites in, and he understood it had a cumulative effect, each bite of the spice adding to the enjoyment of the next mouthful. He wasn’t aware of a food that did that, he thought as he ate the eleventh bite. He wondered if he should try to analyze the chemical structure, but the twelfth bite tasted too good to waste on chemistry. 

The sixteenth bite was the last one, and the only thing left on his plate was drabs of whipped topping. A finger drag through the topping and a taste was all he needed to realize the flavor was in the pie. Deciding he needed another piece, Clark stood up, trying to sneak away from the table so nobody noticed him moving until he got a second piece. It was a nice evening, and he was glad he didn’t have to worry about stopping a crime right now. He’d get more pie, and go outside, maybe even fly to Gotham. Sure, Bruce would be busy, but maybe he’d eat pie, and then let Clark eat a piece off of his groin. Lick Bruce clean, taste the texture of his scars, and where was that trolley? 

Spotting it, Clark glanced around, knowing he didn’t want to be seen even as he wasn’t sure why. Two women were coming down the hallway, pushing carts full of dirty dishes past the pie cart. Only four pieces remained, one for Clark to eat now, one for Bruce, and one to eat off Bruce’s cock, the salt contrasting with the sweetness. Maybe he’d let Bruce eat the forth one off of his cock, just so Bruce would get to experience it from both sides. Bruce liked it when things were balanced. 

“Sure,” one of the women said, dragging Clark’s attention to the present. “He’s sex on legs, but I don’t think even Mr. Wayne can walk into a room and cause that.” 

They walked past without seeing Clark or trying to remove the pie trolley, so Clark opened his ears. This way, he could see if Bruce really was in the next room and listen for pie thieves. A quick walk to the door and he slowly eased it open. Ignoring the orgy going on inside, Clark found that Bruce was in there, calmly fighting off the advances of one of the oldest members of the senate. 

Brucie laughed, as if the senator said something witty, and pulled something out of his pocket. His agile hands tore open the small pill packet, and handed a blue pill over. The senator’s eyes gleamed as he downed the boner pill without water, while Bruce spun him to face two other male senators. All the senators in this room were male, Clark noticed, before walking over to stake his claim on Bruce. Bruce’s eyes lit up when he noticed Clark, but his lips frowned before he spoke. 

“Are you a pie thief?” 

Clark licked his lips, tasting the traces of pie there, and recognized that it was worth whatever Bruce would do to him. “Punish me for it.” 

Bruce’s breathing hitched, but he looked at his watch. “That Leo rat will be in here with a camera crew in three minutes. Come,” Bruce paused to choose a better word, “follow me.” 

Clark nodded, but Bruce had already turned away. This would have been a much better vantage point to watch Bruce if he wasn’t wearing a suit jacket. Getting close enough to touch, Clark placed his hands on Bruce’s ass and felt the man walking. Not caring where they were going, Clark followed, calmly aware that he’d be coming soon. 

Bruce paused to mess with a doorknob, so Clark pressed his erection where his hands had been, and reached around to undo Bruce’s pants. When Bruce moved forward again, Clark went with him, and when Bruce turned completely around, Clark shoved him against that re-closed door. Bruce’s hands stopped Clark from undoing his tie, and shoved them down to Bruce’s open pants. 

“Too public to get naked; just pull out your cock and get off.” 

The command made Clark a little harder, so he happily pulled his cock out. Bruce was erect in the air, his cock sticking out of his immaculate suit, and Clark let out a little pre-cum at the site. 

“Anybody on the stairs, and you bury your head in my neck; Brucie’s reputation can handle this.” 

Clark nodded, only dimly aware that fucking on a stairwell inside a public building might be bad. But touching Bruce, sucking love bites onto Bruce’s neck, that could only be a good thing. For now, Clark touched the tip of his cock to Bruce’s in a loving kiss on their exposed flesh. It felt good, as sweet and simple as apple pie, so Clark did it again. This time Bruce moaned, and dropped his hand down. Skillfully, Bruce used Clark’s cock to trace around the head of his own a few times. 

Then he dragged Clark’s foreskin over the head of Clark’s cock, released it, and lined up his cock with Clark’s. Now Clark’s foreskin was pulled over Bruce’s cock, and Bruce began to gently rock them together. It didn’t have the force of penetrative sex that most of their encounters had, but all the pleasure was locked into that tiny area. Clark tried to back away from the pleasure building up in him, trying to think of something distracting. 

Even the sound of footsteps in the stairwell wasn’t enough to hold back the bliss of being touched to intimately by Bruce. It did bring home the idea that this was a public place, that Bruce was willing to be seen doing this with him. Then Bruce heard the steps and pulled Clark’s head to his shoulder. This shut out the image of his cock swallowing Bruce’s, but let him drown in the scent of Bruce, the feeling of his fine suit, and melt in the heat of his body. 

A stuttering groan was pulled out of Clark with his orgasm, and he rocked a few more times into Bruce. He pushed back to look down, to see his cum dripping down the head of Bruce’s cock. Falling to his knees, Clark took Bruce into his mouth. A few practiced sucks and Bruce was coming. Clark swallowed it down, tasting them both. When Bruce patted him on the head, Clark knew his sucking was painful on Bruce’s spent cock. Reluctantly pulling away, Clark left a quick kiss to Bruce’s pelvic bone before getting to his feet, so he could bury his head in Bruce’s neck. If asked, he’d say he needed the support, and wasn’t just doing it because Bruce had given him permission. 

In this position, he didn't get to watch Bruce wipe them clean with a monogrammed handkerchief, or gently deposit their cocks back in their respective pants, but Clark did get to feel all of that. He also got to lean on Bruce until Bruce's afterglow subsided, and his shoulders started to tense. Only then did Clark look up, to see Bruce frowning while his eyes scanned their surroundings. 

"I could do that again." Clark mentioned, though his desire was the low burn he felt around Bruce and not the fireball he'd felt an orgasm ago. 

"Do we have time to get out of the stairwell?" Bruce asked, resigned. 

Completely lifting his head, Clark looked around, absorbing the fact that they'd just had public sex, in a stairwell, in their civilian identities. Clark didn't do that sort of thing because he was raised to be a gentleman to his partners, and Bruce didn't because he was an intensely private person. The reasons for Clark being so far gone in lust were few, and all known by the person he'd just docked with. Placing his hands on either side of Bruce's shoulders, Clark spoke. "I would like an explanation." 

"You stole something and got punished." 

"I stole a piece of pie because I've been eating junk food for days and it smelled like Alfred's cooking. How is public sex the natural punishment for that?" 

"Depends on how natural you think Ivy's toxins are." 

"You wouldn't dump Ivy's toxins on a bunch of civilians, no matter who they were." Clark protested, knowing Bruce would see the problems with that, the consent issues and the way things easily got out of hand. 

"No, it was a chemically altered version, very mild. They are basically drunk, with a side order of horny. It's not enough to make them do anything they wouldn't do, though I'm not sure how much it effected you."

"Would you like to experiment to find out?" 

Bruce didn't roll his eyes at that, in fact he was considering Clark and what Clark had just said, so self-preservation instincts had Clark looking for a change of subject. There was one thing that bothered him, something about Bruce Wayne having access to Ivy's toxins.

"You had Alfred bake pies with Ivy's dust in them, snuck them into an official government fact-finding tour, where getting caught would mean people wondering how Brucie got his hands on Ivy's dust." 

"Don't be absurd." Bruce said in his 'you're an idiot' voice. "I was talking with the senators, trying to convince them to come to Gotham. I was in no way involved in the mix up in the kitchens that prevented the ordered desert from arriving. I most certainly wasn't the kindly baker with the thick Minnesota accent who offered them pies, free of charge. Alfred has a British accent, you know." 

"How did you get Alfred to go along with this?" Clark asked, but really he wanted to know why Bruce had done it all. 

With an expressive roll of his eyes, Bruce tried to move away from the door he was leaning on. Clark stopped him by pinning his shoulders to the door. Getting the hint, Bruce spoke. 

"Seventy-five percent of the senators in that room voted against rebuilding Gotham. Statistically, the others, who weren't elected yet, would have voted the same way. Alfred has lived in Gotham for a number of years, so he considers it home." 

"Reasonable, but no. If it was pure revenge, Alfred would have tried to talk you out of it, instead of being a part of it." There was only one reason Clark could think of, but he wanted to hear Bruce say it, or at least admit to it. "You did this because I asked for help. I'm not sure how this helps, but I enjoyed your version of being nice." 

"It's obvious." Bruce said, letting his eyes roll again. 

Clark thought about it, realizing that Bruce thought the results of his plan would help, and that the sex wasn't part of that. As was so often the case with them, the sex was just a bonus for a job well done. 

"When the senators realize what they've just done, a public, gay orgy, they'll decline investigating to keep the secret from getting out. They'll bribe that rat Leo to keep him from telling, he'll be rich and forget all about you, at least until he gets arrested for blackmail in a few years. Half of the senators will be on their way home before the breakfast meeting, and the rest will try to tough it out, show that they aren't concerned, but the political backstabbing will have the rest of them home within two days. Either way, this tour is over, and the imbedded reporters get to go home and file their stories." 

Clark shoved down on that ball of emotions so he didn't grin like too much of an idiot when he did grin. "Genius." 

Bruce's face looked disgusted, but his eyes showed his pleasure. 

"So, Bruce, did you get a hotel room, in case this isn't out of my system?" 

"You weren't supposed to get it in your system." 

"I'd like you in my system." 

Bruce snorted a laugh. "You suck at innuendo." 

"Maybe," Clark could concede that, "But I do suck cock." 

"True, and tempting, but I need to patrol tonight." 

"For the proper incentive, I could get you back to Gotham in record time. You don't want to leave me horny and in San Francisco, do you?" 

"No," Bruce snapped back, before continuing in a less predatory, more teasing tone. "I can't have you destroying the city to slate your lust." A sigh. "Since I've already remotely disabled the security cameras in the stairwell, you could fly me home. Alfred can bring the plane, and I'll bend you over the car, lick you open." 

Incentive achieved, Clark pulled Bruce to him and ran up to the roof. From there, Gotham awaited, while Bruce kept up a litany of dirty words and filthy promises. In the cave, Clark landed in front of the batmobile, and Bruce did as he promised. Clark would spend another night at the hotel, but Bruce's words about this turned out to be true as well. The only downside was the inappropriate grin Clark had on his face as he wrote about the strange ending to the fact finding tour. 

sB _Sb_ Bs


End file.
